The Language of Life
by Menaphite
Summary: AU:The Potters desperately sought a way to save their beloved child. But when the inevitable occurs Lily Potter is forced into a desperado to keep her child, making a deal with something she truly doesn't understand. The youngest Potter lives, but he did not come out unscathed. Follow along as Harry discovers his gift, his curse, a penance and uses it to the best of his abilities.


**Please read the A/N at the bottom if you decide to finish this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Only going to say it once, I do not own anything already written by J.K. Rowling and all credit goes towards her.**

* * *

Vibrations gently ran through the room, reverberating. The soft thrum of magic could be _tasted_ in the air, in this case metallic tint to it.

Or was it blood? The two objects are not too different after all, especially given the specific location of all places.

It was a leveled room, much like an auditorium of some sort. Rectangled in shape, with a single set of stairs leading up to the exit and dimly lit with the flickering flames from torches that looked as if they'd gutter out at any moment. Yes, it was the most daunting of rooms to all who knew it existed bringing shivers to the mere thought of it.

For set upon a dais elaborately centered in the middle of a room was an artifact. A stone arch aged with years, a multitude of runes carved into it. They seemed to flicker out of existence within the span of an eye blinking, but just as soon reappear glowing in that eerily illuminating blue. The runes were impossible to decipher for they were changing constantly.

The worst of it though, would without a doubt be the tattered curtain of black that fluttered very slightly, as if recently touched by a gentle passing breeze. Sometimes it would whip about as if in a storm, it would spew ominous black smoke that seemed to suffocate those in reach, leaving them with the feel as if they had just escaped a strangling by a very cold and clammy set of hands.

Some had a theory however. It was so disturbing that it was considered blasphemy out of fear alone. Those who studied it over time thought that the dark foreboding structure was _alive_. Gentle vibrations were the heart beating, the flutter of the decrepit curtain was the soft intake of breath, the soft taste of magic was its docile mind at rest.

Impossible they said, disgusting even, monstrosity, abomination. A thought better left alone, forever and always.

Others had a different theory, that the black as death tattered curtain was once Death's cloak itself, for if you looked upon it, vitality would creep away ever so slowly.

One thing that seemed constant about it though was it held secrets of a scale no one seemed able to decipher. Gleaming at the highest point that seemed to shine just a tad bit brighter than all the other runes the phrase stood out taunting, luring, inviting those to lose themselves in its ghostly grip.

Linguam vitae. _Language of Life._

What does it mean? That death is a common understanding to all? That death holds all answers to the questionable? What indeed.

Sitting just meters away from the awful structure that received the title 'The Veil' (for it obstructs vision from the truth) was a woman who could only be described as _alive._

Dressed in the common black robes of those they call Unspeakables, she had thick dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, with distinctive bright green almond shaped eyes to accompany. Petite in stature, and with pale skin she was considered quite pretty by those who knew of her.

But at this time you could tell something was wrong.

Her hair was a little too frazzled to be considered acceptable, the shadows under her eyes suggested lack of sleep or perhaps dehydration, her skin was little too white to be considered healthy and her eyes as sharp as a hawks. Her lips were viciously curved downwards and she clutched a very small something to her bosom; protectively.

Regarding the Veil with a mixture of horror and fascination she continued to make mental notes on the frequently reoccurring runes.

_Time._

The most frequent one of all, but what did it mean?

A book of riddles, the woman remembered as a child one of the ones that she knew the answer to and left it at that, never giving a more deeply thought out life.

This thing all things devours:

Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;

Gnaws iron, bites steel;

Grinds hard stones to meal;

Slays king, ruins town,

And beats high mountain down.

Was that it, that death was merely a branch off of time? Too many possibilities.

Running a hand through her thick locks the woman leaned back on her calves, back slightly hunched over in what could be called a position of prayer. The irony of it was not lost on her, cradling the small object in her arms, a sleepy babble of gibberish was her only response.

Her lips curved up if only slightly, suddenly her sharp eyes seemed to soften up with warmth as she regarded the most precious thing she had; her son. Her beautiful, beautiful son.

Gentle eyelids flickered open revealing an identical set of vibrant green eyes. They were full of merry cheer, despite the less than accepting location.

Two pudgy hands reached of the small cobalt blue quilt and gripped a delicate finger in a surprisingly firm grip. A happy warble followed.

The women now had a small smile set on her face as she gently removed her finger from his grasp and ran it through his flock of raven black hair, drawing a mewl of happiness as he snuggled deeper into her.

Beautiful.

The women suddenly stood in a single, fluid motion, piercing gaze settled on the Veil as if just remembering it was there.

Yes, it was rather draining on her health, perhaps she ought to leave now. Looking down at the baby in her arms she was met with the same complexion as when they walked in. He didn't even feel cool to the touch, how curious.

As she turned to leave something caught her gaze, the flicker of blue from the corner of her eyes. Craning her neck to the side she drew back a breath in horror. For now embedded in the luminous blue runes, replacing the rune of time was written:

_9:52 _

A second passed.

_9:51_

She let out a wail of terror. No, no, no! Her mind screamed. She knew exactly what the now foreboding runes meant and it only spelled disastrous for her, for them.

For they were marked, _marked for death_ a chilling voice whispered in her mind.

Suddenly the flutter of the curtain didn't just seem like an idle motion, the vibrations seemed to rattle a little more, the thrum of magic fluctuated constantly.

She was being _laughed_ at. Comical as it was, she knew it was true.

It was only a matter of _time_.

An idea formed, however bold it was, she just needed -

"Lily?" a soft voice interrupted her panicking thoughts.

Looking up the staircase, light now flooded through the open doorway illuminating the ghastly room.

A woman stood in black robes; the same as her own. Dark hair was braided down her back and light blue eyes regarded her with worry.

Septima Vector, her best friend.

"'Tima?" oh, she realized. She must of heard her shout.

"I heard you cry out, is everything-"

"Fine? No, everything is not _fine_. Come down here and give me your knife" she snapped. There were more important things at risk than her friends concerns right now.

Blinking owlishly at her, Septima descended down the stairs. Coming to rest next her she stared at the Veil for a moment and then her eye widened in horror.

"It can't be!" she said, her voice rising an octave.

"Yes it can, and it is! Now hand me your knife!" Lily snapped in irritation, she didn't have _time_ for this.

_8:43_

Wordlessly, with shaky hands Septima passed over her enchanted knife. It was meant for carving runes, and that is specifically what she needed to do.

"What should I do?" the witch beside her asked, breathlessly.

"Go outside and warn James, buy me a little time" she ordered, determined now.

Looking into her friend's eyes, and then down at bundle still tucked into an arm she nodded.

"It will be done," her blue eyes were as cold as ice now, a furious blizzard warring within.

_Upon my dying breath._

* * *

Out the chamber, a simple hallway built out of aged stones led to an even simpler door. It was upon this door a man leaned idly twirling his wand.

Dressed in blue robes of an auror, with a mess of raven black hair, brown eyes covered by a small pair of spectacles, was one James Potter.

He and Septima Vector were protecting his lovely wife, Lily Potter and his little Marauder in the making Hadrian 'Harry' Potter.

And he was _bored_.

Wishing Sirius was there to accompany him he didn't notice Septima at the other end of the hallway slip into the Death chamber.

That place made him uneasy, and he did not approve of Lily working in there.

But when had anyone gave a toss about his opinion? He didn't even listen to his conscious.

Drifting into a half lucid state, he did not notice Septima slip back in, looking quite ferocious. Nor did he he notice her calling his name, nor did he notice her approach, but he definitely _felt_ the stinging slap to his cheek.

His head shot up like a bullet, "I'm awake, I'm awake!" he cried out.

"Sleeping on the job Potter, pathetic" she snapped.

Well then. Looks like someone's knickers are in a twist.

So he voiced that thought and was met with an even more ruthless slap to the other cheek.

Women.

If he wasn't a married man in love, he was sure he'd be following this cold witch around like a lost puppy.

"This is no time for your petty remarks, get your head out of your arse and listen. We're in trouble!" she snapped.

His thoughts immediately went to Lily and Harry.

"What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing, yet, but _he _is coming." a flash of panick in her eyes, before it was once again replaced with that frosty look that made her look really damn attractive.

Shaking off his idle thoughts he jerked his head back sharply, banging it on the door as he processed what he heard.

"But how!? No, that thrice damned traitor! I'll kill him!" he roared. Betrayal stung deep to the core.

"What do you mean Potter?" Septima asked, already putting the pieces together. The frown marring her face was turning into a vicious snarl as she thought of _him._

James was pacing rapidly back and forth now, stomping and shouting empty threats at the air.

"That bloody little rat, the bastard -" just then the door was thrown off its hinges and sent James flying down the corridor.

Septima pressed herself against the wall, heart racing. She took a deep breath as she tried to calm herself.

A chuckle that sounded awfully a lot like knives scraping against rocks echoed down the hall. The air seemed to chill and it seeped deep to the bones. Silent footsteps led the _thing_ into view.

Standing at an unnatural height, the abomination entered a smug smirk lifted at the corners of its lips. Malevolent red eyes took in the scene with a disturbing amount of glee. Through the snake slits it used as a nose it inhaled deeply, as if relishing the scent of their fear.

The torchlight reflected strongly against its disgustingly white bald head. Eyes landing on her, it gave a full grown grin revealing teeth filed to the point, its slit tongue came out to carelessly lick his lips.

"Why fancy seeing you here, my dear Septima." it crooned, mockingly. Its eyes roamed over her with a perverse pleasure.

Septima swore she could see her breath, it was so cold. Taking a deep breath she exhaled slowly before looking it in the eyes, wanting to vomit her stomach out right then and stuttered "L-lord Voldemort."

His grin turned even more menacing, a raging fury from the pits of hell behind his eyes.

"Such _courage_, such _bravery_, you dare say my name?" he raised his arms creating a dramatic effect. A small part of her mind wouldn't be surprised if bats started flying out of his billowing cloak.

She must be going mad.

"You amuse me so, dear Septima. If only you joined me, you would of made a fabulous pet" his grin turned into a snarl, "but you aligned yourself with Albus Dumbledore! For that is a death penalty alone!"

"Avadra Kedavra!" an eerily green light sped towards Septima, who closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable. Her only wish was that Lily had enough time to do whatever mad scheme she plotted up this time.

Her eyes snapped open intime for to see the door that had railed James be banished at her effectively smacking her away from the killing curse but slamming her head first into a wall. She landed in thump, shallowly breathing.

James Potter stood in his full glory bleeding from many splinters and scrapes, a nasty cut on right temple with a fire in his eyes. Mouth formed into that aggravating smirk. He brandished his wand and sent several severing curses at Voldemort.

Red eyes murderous with rage now, Voldemort batted them to the side with his hand and with a flick of his wand summoned three vipers.

"_Kill him" _he spat.

James cried "Incendio", a roaring stream of fire disintegrated the snakes upon touch. He only had moment to drop to the ground as a killing curse flew over him.

A cruel smirk appeared on Voledmort's face as Jame's fumbled to recover the wand he dropped.

"Accio", a moment later he was twirling said wand between his fingers.

With a sudden jerk of the hand, he ripped the wand in half and dropped it. The resounding clatter of wood on stone was the only thing heard, that and the shaky breathing of the figure slumped against the wall.

"Do you see now, James Potter? Do you see how hopeless it was from the start?" Voldemort mocked.

A wheezy chuckle.

"You'll never win, you and your rat!" he started laughing uncontrollably.

Voldemort hissed in fury, and with a flick of his wand snapped James Potter's neck. There was no satisfaction in the kill though, even in the face of death, _his face, _he defied him.

Sneering he strode towards the Death chamber, silently like a snake stalking its prey.

* * *

_2:13_

Lily was bleeding from the many carvings of runes in her skin. For every line she carved into the accursed arch the same line would appear on her. She was almost done though.

Soon.

The Veil had gone unnaturally silent, no flutter of a curtain; it lay there limp, no vibrations of magic; the ground was stone cold and no taste of magic; the air was rather stale.

It was as if its breath was held and was waiting for the events to unfold.

But what was unnerving her was her son who lay in his quilt staring up at her, transfixed with her every movement. It was frightening.

With one last shakily drawn line, she slumped against the arch careful not to touch the inner part.

At the same moment the knife clattered out of her hands, the voices and bangs went silent as well.

Dead. James and Septima were both dead.

A single tear drifted off her face smearing with the blood and carrying it gently along a trail down her cheek before dripping at an unbearable pace onto the hard stone ground.

She crawled over to her son, her beautiful son who was still watching her with a small frown on his face.

Kneeling over him she ran her hand along one of the many carvings marring her skin; collecting the blood. With a gentle finger she began tracing a similar rune across his forehead. Stroking his cheek she scooped him up close to her chest and turned right as the door creaked open.

Lord Voldemort entered staring directly at Harry, hungrily. His red eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of the Veil, but shrugged it off as he made his way down the steps.

He reached the bottom and sucked in a breath, relishing at the taste of blood. His forked tongue flickered out to taste the air.

Staring at the time engraved at the top he stepped back wearily. Was that... Fear displayed?

_1:06_

"Drop the child, girl, and you shall be spared" Lord Voldemort ordered.

Lily's eyes narrowed her delicate brows forming a fierce 'V', her grip on Harry tightened and some of the colour seemed to rejoin her face; cheeks slightly flushed in anger.

"No, leave now and you won't be destroyed, Voldemort." she spat back.

His glare turned to slits as his hand flicked to his wand.

"Lord Voldemort is feeling merciful today, but his patience is tested. One more chance, drop the child or die." he whispered.

Lily smirked triumphantly and spat at his feet.

Letting lose a low hiss his wand arm reflexively took aim at her chest - where little Harry was - and he snarled "Avadra Kedavra!"

The sickly green light raced towards her as she let out at a scream, turning so her back was facing the curse.

_0:26_

Connecting with her, Lily's back arched unnaturally and she let out a shrill scream following forwards into the veil.

Her and Harry's forms disappeared without a sound or trace, runes dimming slightly.

_0:16_

All was silent as Lord Voldemort studied the Veil with interest, before he screamed "NO!"

_0:10_

A roaring sound filled Lord Voldemort's ears as the vibrations of magic began to shake the ground aggressively, the air seemed to be suffocating him and the curtain was flapping about wildly. A sound of an inhuman roar could be heard.

The runes carved in by Lily Potter glowed in a dazzling blue light, blinding to look at as tendrils of darkness shot out of the veil and constricted Voldemort; unforgiving in grip. He let out a wail of distress spitting out any spells he could.

_0:03_

He was getting closer and closer to the Veil, the shadows tightening even further around their precious cargo.

_0:02_

He was touching the Veil slightly, all strength seemed to leave him, a ice cold sensation taking over his entire body, numbing it.

_0:01_

With one last shrill scream of desperado, Lord Voldemort was dragged into the Veil.

Silence ensued once again, the gently thrum of magic vibrating the floor, the taste of magic in the air, the slight flutter of the tattered curtain. It was as if nothing had happened. Even the runes Lily Potter had carved into the arch were gone.

One thing was strange though at the base of the arch lay a baby in a blue blanket, wailing at the loss of his family, at the strange man that had come, at the rush of knowledge into him.

What was different though, where the rune traced in blood was drawn lay a scar, an unnatural scar in the shape of a 'z' with the edges pulled to resemble a sideways lightning bolt.

_0:00_

* * *

Sirius Black was not a happy man.

He was doing his shift of patrol, the Ministry was throwing a Halloween ball of sorts to raise morale.

It was his task to make sure nothing happened, sometimes being an auror was rather dull.

He was _bored_.

But there was some serious eye candy out there and it _was_ his job to watch over the guests.

Yes, being an auror did have its perks.

Discreetly making rude gestures at one Lucius Malfoy - oh look, dear cousin Narcissa giving him the stink eye.

That's it smile and wave back. Is her eye twitching? It is!

Yes, being an auror _definitely_ did have its perks.

He drifted back into the shadows and gave an overview of the area. Taking in all the different characters.

One minister Millicent Bagnold? Check.

One pudgy undersecretary Cornelius Fudge? Check. And what a hideous bowler hat he has. Some people.

One - oh look at those legs, she's gorgeous...

Sirius cursed himself for being on duty once again and leaned back against the wall, sulking.

Imagine his surprise when the band of gold bracelet he wore around his right wrist started going haywire. Rattling his arm so bad he slammed it against the wall.

Mentally panicking he tore across the grounds, weaving through people. Some gave odd looks of curiosity and alarm. He ignored them.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood tall, proud and regal like his ancestors before him. Observing quietly his gaze settled onto Sirius' with a glint of concern in his dark eyes.

"Black" he greet solemnly, slightly tilting his head.

Controlling his breathing he let out a hiss of frustration.

"It's James, he's in danger!" he whispered urgently.

"Do you need back up?"

"No, I'll do it alone." a fire of rage glinted in his eye.

Another slight dip of the head, and then,

"Good luck." he murmured, almost knowingly.

Sirius gave a rough jerk of his head and briskly set for the apparition zone. The ministry his location.

A foreboding sense threatened to tear his resolve though, he had a sense of illness when he thought about what had happened.

And he was the one to orchestrate it.

It was so bloody obvious too! Never trust a _rat_ of all people. If he wasn't already dead he would be soon.

Sirius Black was not going to get mad, nor was he going wallow into a self shame or pity.

He was going to get even.

_'Pettigrew, I'm coming for you.'_

* * *

Dim street lamps illuminated the dark asphalted street, casting an eerie glow to it. It was late at night and few people were out.

A soft scuttling sound rustled to the left followed by a roaring jet of flame.

Cackling of a man, clearly mad.

"Run, run the little mouse runs!" oh god was he _singing_?

That was _so _Bellatrix.

Well you know what they say, madness runs deep within the Black family.

A spike embedded where the disgusting vermin was, sinking three feet into the road with a vicious _thud._

He was feeling rather ruthless at the moment.

Yes, definitely Bellatrix.

He just couldn't get the memories out; Jame's face, his trademark smirk on his colourless face making him look like a grinning skull.

Septima, dear, dear Septima. He didn't have much time, but she was _alive. _In stable condition. That was enough to leave him content at the moment.

The blasted door leading to the disturbing chamber. The leering visage of the veil, with his godson's tiny body nestled in his little blue quilt.

Feeling serene at the memory of picking up little Harry and running his hands through his thick mop of black hair, the colour of a raven's wing.

Sweeping it aside to find a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. Staring at him as he fitfully sleep.

And finally placing a soft kiss upon it.

Leaving in a rage that could only be settled with blood, blood of the rat.

He hadn't even found Lily's body.

Sadistic rage returning once more he wordlessly sent another three spikes hurling down the sidewalk.

"Creeping quietly, he slips away!" an image in the corner of his eye.

"Only to be found by his newly made grave!" with another cackle he sent a spike through the sidewalk. A squeal of terror, much too high pitched to be a normal rat. With sick amusement Sirius thought it sounded awfully like a dying pig.

Tired of the games he let out a roar and stomped his foot. What happened next could be described as supernatural.

Cracks rapidly traveled towards the rat, before spreading and leveling the street into a deep, twelve foot crater. Thus, effectively boxing the rat in.

Wandless magic at its finest.

A shout of surprise, finding himself startled, Sirius looked over to see a group of muggles gathered together on a house's lawn. Looks like some teenager's Halloween party was running deep into the night. Oh well.

"Vermin, you're trapped, face me with whatever dignity you have left murderer!" he roared to the edge of the crater.

Silence. Then, a glow of light with a writhing shape started to expand on the ground. Limbs twisted out at disturbing angles, a head sporting a greasy mop of hair was shown.

Joints cracking into place, Peter Pettigrew stood and faced Sirius with a look of aggravating triumph. A disgusting little smirk pulled at his lips.

Pulling out a knife, he held it to his finger, just drawing blood before shouting.

"Sirius Black, murderer! I have come to apprehend you for being a spy, a Death Eater for the Dark Lord, and murdering my best friends Lily and James Potter!"

Sirius snarled in disgust. Lying from the skin of crooked nasty teeth, unable to say _his _master's name.

But the look in rat's eyes was disturbing, more disturbing than him being the traitor to the Potters.

He was confident.

Pettigrew was never confident, at all, ever. It just didn't happen. He always had to have to support of numbers to appear even remotely bold.

No matter, he would die, one way or another.

With a ferocious roar Sirius lunged across the street in maddening strides. His wand transfiguring into a wicked double edged blade.

Screams were emitted from the muggles, then Pettigrew chopped his finger off.

The world lit up blue, then white, then black.

The explosion could be heard from four streets over.

* * *

**A/N: **Ladies and gents, I apologize for any errors, I just started the fourth book of the actual Harry Potter Series, but I practically know the first five books and a lengthy chunk of the last. I can't really get into the flow of the actual series, I feel as if a lot of the characters are really, really naïve/inconsiderate/dumb in general. But I will faithfully read to the last one so I have something to compare to.

I ask if you're so kind to take the time to leave a review, it actually is a review. I never understood why people always leave 'it was good, update soon'. If the story doesn't say its completed, chances are its going to be updated and you have to say what's good about it so the author knows what to continue. Apologizes for the mini-rant, but please if you do leave a review could it be considerate? Keep in mind it is AU.


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